Fun With Frankie

As Barbara walked through the jungle, rifle close but held in a confident manner, she sudden had the instinctive feeling that she was not alone. She paused and acted as if she was looking a something in the distance while in reality she had stopped to listen and try to catch a scent. Whoever was here was very good at staying quiet as she had not heard anyone approach and being behind her without any breeze meant that Barbara had no scent to rely on. Without any further indication, the hunter pivoted and whirled around, the butt of her rifle fitting against her shoulder as she shifted into a crouch, wanting to catch whoever it was off guard. It was a move she had never practiced before, yet her body did it automatically as she sighted her weapon at the follower.

It was Artie’s child and Barbara’s mind raced as she tried to recall her name. Artie had said it when they were on the beach…. Laura, that was it. But why was she here? Why was she not with Artie? Standing back up and lowering her rifle, Barbara closed the small bit of distance between the two of them as she looked the girl over. She was odd, both in behavior and scent, and for some reason Barbara didn’t like that. Her lips curled slightly and she was certain she looked rather inhuman, what with her cat eyes in full display, but Barbara hardly gave a damn at the moment. “Do not interfere,” she growled, voice quiet but filled with intent. “This hunt is mine and I will not tolerate outsiders.” Her words were almost hard to get out, as if speaking right now were something that shouldn’t be done. Actions spoke louder, but she had no reason to cuff the girl upside the head. Not now. Let her watch, but do only that.

The crackle of a loudspeaker whipped Barbara’s head around. It was distant, but she heard Artie’s voice speaking somewhere in the direction she had been headed. Along with that, following a few moments later, was noise. Barbara couldn’t fully discern it, but it was the crashing sound of something large moving through the brush. It was him, it had to have been. Adrenaline flooded her body at the sound, but as she began to move, Artie’s voice popped up practically overhead, causing her to stumble and growl at this distraction. Let him torment Frank, but she in no way approved of him doing running commentary on her.

With a snarl, Barbara took off towards the sound of the crashing. One would think that her moving at a faster speed would cause more noise on her part, alerting Frank that he was being pursued, but as she ran, Barbara’s gaze relaxed, staying in the mid-ground of vision and allowing her to see where things weren’t rather than where they were. The technique wasn’t perfect, as she still made noise from the fall of her footsteps and hitting the plants she hadn’t managed to miss entirely, but compared to Frank, she was silent as she made her way to him.

Frankie had made his way to a chasm, underneath which was a flowing river and across the way a waterfall. If he had any appreciation for real nature he might have allowed himself to be killed by Artie's Ticktockmen while he stared. But he didn't, and so he tried his best to find a way around as the saw-wielding automatons continued in pursuit of him.
....and then Frankie noticed that they didn't continue in pursuit of him. It was just the sound of the saws that continued. From somewhere. Up in the trees? He couldn't tell. But the Ticktockmen were no longer behind him. 
"....CADE?" he called into the air, "CADE WHAT THE HELL IS THIS HUH?"
"Well it's not my hunt," came the answer over the megaphone system, "Otherwise it would probably be nighttime at the very least. Come on, when have I ever killed in broad daylight? You know me better than thaaaat."
With a cackle, Artie activated another fun item. 
Repeating beat traps snapped viciously on the floor around Frankie's feet, coming out of the dirt and snapping at whatever might be above them. Frank yelped and ran from the area, still trying to find a way to cross that damned chasm. But to little avail. He looked around and up and down and....a tree? Why not. He used to climb trees.
When he was...a boy....
Frankie tried to heave his large frame up onto one of the more bent palm trees, slowly but surely. To his surprise...he managed it. He kept his eyes peeled and looked around for anything that might be out there. 

The shot rang out. But it only registered in Frankie's ears far too late before the bullet lodged itself in his calf. 
"AAAUGH!" he cried out, losing his grip and sliding back down the tree trunk and onto the hard ground. He seethed and gripped his wounded leg in pain, looking around frantically to see where that might have come from. 
"DING DING DING DING!" came Artie's voice over the hidden megaphones, "The lucky first strike! It wasn't a bullseye but hey, nobody ever said the game wasn't rigged." 
Frank managed to stand and stumbled his way toward the crossing he had seen over the chasm when he had scaled the tree. It wasn't easy to walk, much less half jog. And it certainly didn't feel great to have a bullet in one's leg. But even with these issues, he made it across and leaned against the rocks that formed behind the waterfall. He tried to slow his breathing, looking back at the trail of blood he'd left. 
"Damn it..." he grunted as he pulled out a handkerchief and wrapped it around the bleeding wound, "Damn it..."
Frankie wasn't sure what was going on. He was...being hunted? By who? Not Artie, he wasn't around clearly. Just...up in the damn clouds or something. So what was it? He peered around the craggy rock to see if he was being followed...

It was in this moment that Laura realised how bored she was by watching a superhuman hunt down a crime lord in the depths of a jungle. She could not relate to anything that was happening around her, seeing this whole debacle as a petty minded exercise in causing pain and suffering where it wasn't needed. She had accepted his death, but this only reminded her of studies on children that liked to torture small animals.

Laura understood why Barbara and Artie were able to get along as well as they did. they seemed to share their view on death as something it was possible to enjoy. To Laura it was a grim thing that when needed, she carried out without hesitation or mercy but still with an awareness it was distasteful.

it was a childish form of power play. Disappointed in both of them, Laura moved (taking a long path around Barbara so she wouldn't get uppity about interfering) around to the direction Frankie seemed to have come from to look upon the automatons she had recognised the scent of.

She pointed at one of them. "You. Forward." Laura waited to see if these were ones Artie had bothered to program her identity into, they had been built for the island after all it did seem like a lower priority. but she was pleasantly surprised when it started to move towards her at a steady pace until she commanded "Stop."

now secure in the knowledge they were no threat, Laura realised she hadn't any idea of what to do with the bloody things. She shrugged and got them to follow after her back towards where she had last seen Barbara to see if this was all over yet.

Honestly, she had expected more of a fight from Frank, but then again, he did fit the type that were essentially big talkers and nothing else. Finishing him off with a bullet to the head just didn’t seem sporting anymore. “The broad from the Suit. Really? You just now remembered who I am? After we spent how many hours on a plan together? God, Frankie, I knew you were dense but this really is surprising,” she told him as she propped her rifle against a nearby rock, taking the time to look at this sad excuse of a man. “And you think that I would actually be doing this for money?” That made her laugh a little. “I have more than enough money to live comfortably for quite some time. In fact, the income of my home estate alone means I don’t have to work a day in my life. So, no, it is not about money.”

“Nor is it about doing the dirty work for other people, Frank,” she purred, slowly walking towards him, fingers resting on the hilt of the knife sheathed in her belt. “Not directly, at least. Oh, I’m certain that Artie will be very happy to see you go away permanently, he hates you as much as I do, if not more, and I barely know you. I’m not his lapdog sent to kill whomever he wants. No darling, he simply set up this hunt. I made the request.” Barbara was now close enough to Frankie that she crouched down, wanting to get a closer look at him. The wound on his calf caught her eye and she clucked her tongue. “Oh, that is a nasty piece of work, isn’t it? Lucky that it hit where it did. Higher and you would already bleed out by now. Lower or a little more forward and bone would have shattered, causing you to scream in pain.” Barbara closed her eyes at that thought, shivering in delight as she imagined the sound of it.

“In case you’re wondering what you did to deserve this treatment, Frank? You insulted me. You refused to let me leave when it pleased me to do so. You treated me as any broad from off the streets and you treated me like something that was yours. I am neither of those. First and foremost, I am a lady and, more importantly, I am a doctor. I am not a broad. Secondly, I was taken and claimed by someone else before you even saw me or knew me. He treats me better and loves me far more than you can even imagine. He cares not for you and thinks of you only as a way to help me along my path.”

Barbara’s heart was pounding as she spoke, hard enough she could almost hear its rhythm; something not unlike a distant drum. Freeing her knife, she straddled Frank, practically sitting in his lap, and placed the blade against his neck. “Do you have any last words that I should remember you by before I slit your throat and watch the light drain from your eyes, Mr. Santino?”

Barbara underestimated her prey and paid for it by being pinned and int a fight for her life. Unfortunately, she was ill-prepared when it came to dirty fighting. If it hadn’t been for Frankie’s hand spasming, the outcome of this battle would have been entirely different. As it happened, Barbara managed a rough blow to his jaw, knocking him back just a little. It wasn’t a proper punch, but it certainly did the job and allowed her more leverage to move. Lunging forward and using her free hand to grab his shirt, Barbara pulled Frankie back in towards her, allowing his bodyweight to do most of the work as he sank onto the knife in her other hand.

The impact and pain registered on his face, almost a shocked look with disbelief mixed in before ending in him rolling off of Barbara, as if that would help him escape the blade lodged in his chest, just under his pectorals. It didn’t and he simply laid there, breathing growing shallower and a bit more wet with each passing second, the front of his shirt blossoming red from the knife outwards, and his expression growing more and more slack. Something seemed to have possessed Barbara and she moved with a purpose. Grabbing the knife and pulling it out, she quickly straddled the dying man once more. Using one hand to push his head back, she sliced his throat, sending a spray of arterial blood flying. He tensed and convulsed at the action, as if that was the actual killing blow. As the spasms died down, Barbara sat there, transfixed by the blood. It smelled of copper pennies and something else, something that spoke to the voice in the back of her mind.

Ripping a glove off, she dipped her fingers in the still warm liquid and began methodically marking her face. She was not aware of what she was doing, but whatever was guiding her knew the pattern; dots upon her forehead and cheeks while sweeping tear tracks went from the inner corners of her eyes to her mouth, following the look of an African cheetah. Once the makeup was finished, Barbara licked her bloody fingers clean.

The reaction was almost instantaneous. Her body spasmed and jerked, as if being jolted by electricity. Crying out in apparent pain, her flesh tingled and prickled as power coursed through her bringing about an unprecedented change. Bones popped and cracked, realigning themselves slightly in order to be more limber and useful in the chase, her nails extended into claws which easily raked her clothes, revealing fur rippling over her skin as her ears grew pointed and teeth sharpened. Lastly, her back arched as her spine elongated, adding a tail to what was already a woman becoming a beast.

The change complete, the cheetah woman laid there on the ground, breathing heavily as her senses took in her surroundings. Birds and other animals squawked and chittered in the canopy. Jungle scents mixed with metal and oil, an odd combination that made her nose wrinkle. The cloth on her body was restrictive, causing an animalistic snarl to emerge from her as she shredded it further for better movement. The only pleasant thing was the body nearby. It was a fresh kill, still warm and her stomach felt hollow. Approaching it, she knelt to lap up the slowly spreading blood pool.

The rumble of an engine was coming up in the distance, and soon enough a small four wheeled vehicle was driving toward the group, Artie standing up as he gripped the wheel and looking around to see what he could. Francis was with him in the passenger side, seated and looking as stoic as ever.
As the small vehicle pulled up, Artie jumped out of it and started to run to Barbara before Francis whistled loudly and Artie stopped. He looked at his daughter but said nothing then looked worryingly at Barbara, eyes wide with curiosity.
The pistol that Francis had taken off of Frank was raised and pointed at the head of the short masked man.
"I told you no sudden bolting," Francis said as he exited the side of the vehicle and stood behind his old boss, "I don't like twitchy people, MR. Cade."
Artie was smirking and about to reply but was bashed upside the back of his head by the pistol, which caused his mask and spectacles to fly off and land softly on the jungle floor. His exposed muscles and lipless mouth on the left side of his face contorted into anger as he began to grind his teeth.
"I don't know what is going on," he went on in his slightly foreign accent, "But this is madness...you are all insane and I am leaving. I will be taking the plane. Now."
"Oh you'll have to pry THAT from Laura's cold, dead hands..." Artie managed before he winced slightly, but a giggle escaped his throat anyway.  
"I WILL shoot him." 
Francis pressed the muzzle of the pistol to Artie's head, and his prey's eyes darted between Laura and Barbara. Artie cleared his throat and nodded his head to his daughter. May as well just get it over with. If Francis got the keys he wouldn't get far. Artie's eyes slowly rose in anger...he could only ever keep his madness at bay for small amounts of time in situations like this. Francis would die screaming...by his hand or someone else's. Artie did note that Francis was apprehensive about the presence of his Ticktockmen...
"Let me tend to Barbara first, and you'll get what's coming to y-AUGH!" Artie began to hiss before the gun barrel was forced even harder against the back of his already bruised head. He seethed and growled as the mad light that usually appeared in his eyes kindled as he stared straight ahead at nothing in particular.